Strawberry Shortcake Murder (8 page)

“Here Mother.” Hannah handed her a cookie. “What did you want to tell me?”

“I don’t think you should put all you eggs in one basket.”

“What?”

“I just want you to be careful, dear. I know you’re attracted to Mike, but it would be real shame to let a good prospect like Norman get away. Lucy Richards is after him, you know. Carrie told me last night.”

“Lucy Richards? And Norman?” Hannah had trouble believing her ears. Sweet, funny Norman and the reporter who thought of herself as a female Bob Woodward were as unlikely a mix as oil and water. “Are they dating?”

“Not yet, but Carrie said she dropped in at the clinic last week, and Norman was in his office with Lucy and the door was closed. After Lucy left, Carrie asked him about her, and Norman acted very secretive.”

“Secretive?”

“Carrie asked him why he was in his office with Lucy, and he refused to tell her. There’s something going on, Hannah, and Carrie doesn’t like it one bit. I think you’d better start paying more attention to Norman before Lucy snatches him up on the rebound.”

Hannah’s mouth dropped open. What rebound? She’d gone out with Norman three times, and there was nothing romantic about it. But saying that would only lead to a longer discussion, and she needed to get back to work. “Consider me warned. I’ll talk to Norman today, I promise.”

“Make sure you do.” That seemed to satisfy Delores because she stood up and smoothed down her skirt. “I’ve got to run, dear. I told Carrie I’d pick her up in ten minutes.”

“Christmas shopping at the mall?” Hannah guessed.

“Of course not.” Delores looked slightly affronted. “I do my shopping the day after Christmas. The bargains are simply amazing. I’ve had all my presents wrapped and stored for almost a year.”

Hannah saw her mother off and went back into the front of her shop. Delores had always been incredibly organized. Hannah admired that quality in her mother, but she knew it wouldn’t work for her. If she bought next year’s presents the day after Christmas, she’d forget where she’d stored them and have to run out at the last minute to buy them all over again.

During the next two hours, Hannah served coffee and cookies nonstop. On her forays to the tables, carrying cookies and coffee refills, she heard at least a dozen different theories about Boyd Watson’s murder. Kathy Purvis, the principal’s wife, thought that Boyd had interrupted a burglary in progress. Lydia Gradin, a teller at First National, was sure that a carload of gang members from Minneapolis was to blame. Mrs. Robbins and her friends from the Lakewood Senior Apartments thought that the killer must have escaped from the state reformatory for men in St. Cloud, while Mr. Drevlow, Lisa’s neighbor, insisted that he must have been a homicidal lunatic from the state hospital in Wilmar who’d been released owing to budget cuts. Only one person mentioned the Hartland Flour Dessert Bake-Off, and that was in passing. “Digger” Gibson, the local mortician, speculated that an old enemy of Boyd’s had recognized him on television while he was judging the bake-off and driven to Lake Eden to kill him. Hannah hadn’t heard anyone mention Danielle’s name without following it with the phrase, “the poor dear,” and she assumed that, so far, Boyd’s shameful secret was safe. She also knew that the sympathetic thoughts that were wafting Danielle’s way could change to suspicion in an instant. If the residents of Lake Eden found out that Boyd had battered Danielle, they’d be convinced that she’d killed him either in self-defense or as retaliation.

By the time eleven-fifteen rolled around, there was only one customer left. It was too late for a breakfast cookie, everyone’s midmorning coffee break was over, and the cookie-after-lunch crowd wouldn’t appear until noon or later. Hannah had just finished putting on a fresh pot of coffee to prepare for the noon rush when Andrea came in the door.

“Hi, Hannah.” Andrea hung her coat on the almost-empty rack and slid onto a stool at the counter. She glanced over at old Mr. Lempke, whose daughter had left him in Hannah’s care while she’d run down to the drugstore, and frowned slightly. “Does he have his hearing aid turned on?”

Hannah shook her head. “Roma took his batteries to the drugstore to get replacements.”

“Good. I need to talk to you about Danielle. Bill told me all about it, and I want to do something to show my support. I don’t believe for a second that she killed him, but if she did, he deserved it!”

“I know,” Hannah poured a mug of coffee from the carafe she’d filled before she’d emptied the urn and shoved it over to her sister. Andrea’s color was high, almost matching the coral pink of her expensive cashmere sweater, and her blue eyes were snapping. “You’re really upset, aren’t you?”

“You bet I am! Bill says Sheriff Grant is sure that Danielle is guilty, and you know what that means.”

“I’m afraid I do,” Hannah started to frown. “They’re just going to go through the motions?”

“That’s right. Bill says he doesn’t dare go out on a limb about it. He’s been a detective for less than two months and they won’t listen to him anyway. And he doesn’t think that Mike will buck Sheriff Grant, either.”

“Because he just transferred here?”

“That, and because he’s not sure Danielle didn’t do it.”

Hannah was so shocked she couldn’t speak for a moment. When she did, her voice was hard. “What is he, stupid? I told him that Danielle wasn’t capable of killing Boyd!”

“You can’t blame him, Hannah. He doesn’t know Danielle like we do, and he’s still got that big-city-cop mentality. I’ll bet that in Minneapolis, lots of abused wives kill their husbands.”

“But this is Lake Eden,” Hannah reminded her. “It’s different here.”

“I know.” Andrea blew on the surface of her cup and too a tentative sip. “How does your carafe keep things so hot? We’ve got the same kind, and our coffee’s always lukewarm.”

“Do you fill it with boiling water and let it sit for a couple of minutes before you pour in the coffee?”

“No, but I’ll try that tomorrow morning. So what are we going to do first, Hannah?”

“About what?”

“About Danielle. It’s up to us to prove she didn’t kill Boyd.”

Hannah reared back and stared at her sister in surprise. “Us?”

“You didn’t think I’d let you tackle something like this alone, did you?” Andrea gave a smug little smile. “I’m not quite as good at snooping as you are, but I’m learning.”

Hannah wasn’t quite sure she liked being categorized as a snoop, but she let it pass. “Bring your coffee and let’s go in the back. I need to pack up my box of ingredients for tonight.”

Once the switch was accomplished and Lisa had taken Hannah’s place behind the counter, Andrea sat down at the work island with her coat in her lap and watched Hannah fill a box with ingredients for the dessert she planned to bake on television.

Hannah worked efficiently, measuring ingredients and putting them into plastic containers. Once she’d assembled everything she needed, she began to store them in the box. There was a container of sugar, a pound of butter, and a plastic bag filled with diced apricots. Hannah added a loaf of sliced white bread, stuck in her handwritten recipe, and walked to the cooler to make sure she had plenty of eggs and cream. When she’d clamped the lid on the box, she turned to find Andrea staring at her curiously. “What?”

“I was just trying to figure out what you’re baking tonight.”

“Apricot Bread Pudding. It was one of Great-Grandma Elsa’s favorite recipes, but she used raisins instead of apricots. I like it better this way.”

“So do I. Apricots are a lot better than raisins. So what are you going to do, Hannah?”

“There isn’t time actually to bake it during the news, so I’ll make it ahead of time and prepare another one on camera. That’s what I did with the Pound Plus Cake for Strawberry Shortcake Swensen.”

“Not that. I mean, what are we going to do about Danielle? We’ve got to help her.”

“I know. But how about Bill? He’s not going to like it if you get involved in another murder investigation.”

Andrea waved off that concern. “He’s so busy, he won’t even notice. Let’s go and visit Danielle at the hospital. We need to get all the facts we can before we start.”

“You can’t visit her, Andrea. I talked Mike into letting me see her, but I’m the only one.”

“I know. Bill told me. But Rick Murphy’s guarding her door, and I know him from high school. If I keep him busy talking to me, he won’t be able to overhear what you and Danielle are saying.”

“That’s brilliant.” Hannah was impressed.

“Thanks. So you’re going to let me help, aren’t you, Hannah?”

Hannah hesitated, taking time to fill a bag with cookies for Danielle. “Bill may kill me when he finds out, but I could really use you.”

“That’s great!” Andrea was obviously delighted. “You know, I really like to do things with you, Hannah. It’s just a pity it took Ron LaSalle’s murder to bring us together like this.”

Hannah thought about that as she went to tell Lisa to hold the fort until they got back. It was a pity that her relationship with Andrea hadn’t smoothed out into friendship until they’d investigated their first murder together. Before that it had been a competition between the two sisters, each feeling the other had the edge.

Andrea had been the popular sister, the one who’d never lacked for a date. Pretty and petite, the picture of the quintessential prom queen, she’d been at ease in any social situation, especially when it had involved boys. Andrea had been a younger version of Delores, and her popularity proved it. Hannah, on the other hand, had resembled her father. She’d been tall, lanky, and extremely capable, with an unfortunate tendency to indulge her wicked sense of humor. The boys had liked Hannah well enough as a study partner or a wise-cracking pal, but she certainly hadn’t made any male teenage palms turn sweaty. That had been Andrea’s forte. Bill always said that Andrea could charm the birds right out of the trees, and it was true. And Hannah knew that the only way she could achieve the same effect was to load a shotgun and shoot them down.

When Hannah came back into the bakery, she grabbed her winter parka and the box of ingredients, and turned to find Andrea frowning. “What is it now?”

“You’re not going to the hospital like that, are you?”

“Like what?” Hannah was puzzled.

“In that ratty old parka.”

“My ratty old parka was new last year,” Hannah informed her. “And it’s a lot warmer than that silly trench coat of yours.”

“My coat’s not silly. It’s a perfect knock-off of the leather trench coat that was featured in Vogue last month!”

“That’s New York. This is Minnesota. You don’t wear an unlined coat that barely covers your knees when it’s in the low teens outside.”

“I do.” Andrea slipped into her coat and headed for the back door. Once she’d stepped out, she turned back to Hannah. “Just because it’s cold doesn’t mean you have to look like an Eskimo. My coat is a fashion statement.”

“It’s a fashion statement that’s going to give you frostbite from the knees down.” Hannah led the way to her truck. “At least wear some wool slacks with it.”

“But that would defeat the whole purpose. Really, Hannah. You just have no fashion sense.”

Hannah was getting ready to give her sister a piece of her mind when she realized that what they were fighting over was ridiculous. She started to grin as she unlocked her truck, climbed behind the wheel, and waited for Andrea to get in. Perhaps they’d always bicker the way they’d done in high school, but that bickering no longer had to escalate into a fight.

Hannah waited until Andrea had buckled her seat belt, then backtracked with as much grace as possible. “Forget what I said, Andrea. I know my parka isn’t exactly attractive. And I agree that I could use a little of your fashion sense.”

“And I could use a little of your common sense. It’s a lot colder than I thought it was going to be today.”

“I’ve got a blanket.” Hannah reached in back to retrieve the old quilt she’d stuck in her truck for emergencies. “Wrap up, Andrea. This truck takes forever to get warm.”

Andrea took the quilt and draped it over her lap. “Thanks, Hannah. Maybe we should go out to the mall sometime and advise each other.”

That suggestion just floated on the icy air for a moment. Then both sisters started to laugh, imagining the fights they’d have if they ever went on a shopping trip together.

Lake Eden Memorial Hospital was on Old Lake Road, five miles from The Cookie Jar and well outside the downtown area. It had been built on a rise that overlooked the frozen surface of the lake, and it was Doc Knight’s pride and joy. The V-shaped cinder-block building had been painted a cheerful shade of yellow, and it was completely surrounded by small pines that had been planted so that each of the two dozen rooms would look out on perpetual greenery and a view of Eden Lake.

Hannah drove around to the back of the building and entered the parking lot. There weren’t many cars this time of the day, and she pulled up next to Doc Knight’s new Explorer. There were posts with electrical outlets on the far row for the nurses and the staff, but Hannah decided that she didn’t need to plug in her truck. They wouldn’t be staying more than an hour and probably less.

“Ready?” Hannah turned to her sister.

Andrea nodded and removed the quilt. “I hate hospitals.”

“Me too.” Hannah waited for Andrea to get out and locked up her truck. They fell into step together and when they reached the front of the hospital, Hannah pulled open the heavy glass door, and they stepped into the foyer. They stomped off their boots, wiping them on the mat, then went through the set of double doors that led into the large lobby.

Visiting hours were posted on a sign above the reception desk. They were from two to four and seven to nine. It was almost noon, and the desk was deserted. Hannah didn’t bother to press the buzzer for assistance. How hard could it be to find Danielle’s room? It would be the only one with a uniformed sheriff’s deputy stationed outside.

The hospital corridor smelled like disinfectant and cauliflower. At least Hannah hoped that it was cauliflower. The mixture made her wrinkle up her nose and wish for the soothing aromas of vanilla and chocolate.